Obliviate
by EternalRose
Summary: It was wrong. It was unreal – it hadn’t happened. He couldn’t be dead. Just couldn’t. Old Ginny/Harry


Obliviate

I tossed around in my sheets and rolled over to my side, expecting to feel someone in the bed beside me, but I didn't. In fact it didn't seem like anyone had been lying there at all. The pillows had no dints were a head should have laid and the sheets were untouched. I smoothed my hand over the empty spot and thought nothing of it.

I slowly raised myself into a sitting position and began to rub the sleep from my eyes. I stretched, stifling a yawn and untangled the quilt from around my waist. I slipped into my furry pink slippers and trudged out of my bedroom not bothering to brush my hair. All I could think of was stopping the growling of my stomach. I needed food.

My eyes wandered over to the sofa as I crossed the sitting room and I frowned, seeing that untouched aswell. Perhaps he is still at work, he being my husband. He never usually comes home late, I wake with his arms secured around my waist every single morning, and maybe our routine has finally broken after nearly two years. Surely though he would tell me if he was staying all night, he wouldn't make me worry like this.

I finally found the kitchen and flicked the kettle on before placing two pieces of bread in the toaster, and after placing the jam and butter on the counter, the kettle began to whistle. I made myself a nice cup of coffee and scraped jam and butter on my toast that'd popped up shortly after. I scooped up my mug and plate and made my way to the sitting room. I flicked the T.V on and watched it, nibbling on my toast, and began to feel increasingly sick. Instincts ushered me up the stairs to the bathroom, were I found myself doubled over the toilet seat, breathing heavily as the contents of my breakfast came back up into the toilet. This carried on for ages, until I collapsed on the floor, back against the bathtub, my eyes closed. I'd been like that for a few days now and hadn't told my husband, I was too worried.

I wiped my mouth on my sleeve and hauled myself up from the floor, glancing in the mirror for the first time. My hair stuck out in odd places and my face seemed very pale. Furrowing my brows at this, I began to brush my teeth, staring at myself with disgust, and then I felt that lurch in my stomach again but I ignored it. I didn't have time to be sick; I had to be at work.

I checked the clock as I stepped in the hallway; it read seven am, leaving me just over an hour to get ready. I cracked a weak smile and hurried over to my bedroom and changed into my plain black robes. Then, I brushed the kinks out of my hair and curled it with a spell. Fairly happy that I looked a lot better than before, (even though I still looked a little pale) I hurried back down the stairs and flicked off the television.

My feet carried my over to the kitchen table, were I picked up my report that was due today and turned to leave, but to my dismay, a pamphlet flew out of my grasp.

I rolled my eyes and bent down to retrieve it, my eyes instantly widening at the title 'Traits of Pregnancy'. A bulleted list ran down the front, one of which read sickness. At this point I collapsed onto my sofa, gaping at nothing in particular. The pamphlet slipped through my fingers, landing at my feet.

Everything made sense now, the lurches, mood swings, worrying and sickness – I was pregnant.

At first I didn't know whether to cry or laugh, so I just smiled until it gradually grew into a grin. I was carrying the child of the man I loved and I didn't waste any time. I had to make sure I was right, so I cast a charm on my stomach and the results were positive.

I squealed so loudly I feared everyone in my neighbourhood had heard me. I was going to be a mum of a beautiful little child and I couldn't wait. I knew I had to go to St. Mungo's but not today, today I'm going to wait for my husband and tell him so we can go together.

My excitement carried on all day and I just couldn't calm down, all I thought of was baby clothes and names. I even kept going to the window and looking out for Harry, but it seemed he wasn't coming home. I admit I was worried something had happened to him at the ministry. He was an Auror and the best in his division and had been working on a really hard case, I know, I help him. He'd gone off with about five others' looking for this one guy and that's the last I've heard of him and to be honest, I think something has happened to him.

I close my eyes and shut the curtains, tenderly crushing my knees into my chest. Tears prickle the back of my eyes and seep down my cheeks. The worst thing that could possibly happen is if a black limo pulls up outside and a man in a tall bowler hat gets out with a cane. I sob into my knees as I think this, but who wouldn't? If that did happen it would mean that my husband had died and I couldn't live without him. He's my other half and I love him with all my heart, and I'm sure he feels the same.

If he died I'd probably die too. I couldn't face living alone or having this child. What would I tell my precious baby about their father? I couldn't tell them he'd died could I? It would break their little heart and I just wouldn't be able to cope with that.

I shake my head and laugh at how silly I am, and then I pull open my curtains, rolling my eyes. That's when my jaw dropped.

I couldn't believe what I was seeing. It was what I'd dreaded before, something I pushed aside and told myself it wouldn't happen to me, but as I blinked, rubbed my eyes, told myself I was dreaming – anything that made what I saw untrue. It was still there at the bottom of my front path, the delivery of death. I tore my eyes away from the blurred image of the limo and collapsed onto the couch, praying that my husband, my pride and joy, was ok.

He couldn't be dead. Just couldn't.

_I love you._

I pressed my head into my palms, sobbing uncontrollably as a knock sounded at the door. I didn't want to answer it. I already knew he was dead and I didn't want telling again off a stranger who didn't care. There was another knock, followed by another and I regretfully stumbled over to the door and twisted the knob slowly, feeling my heart tearing into a million pieces. There he stood a living equivalent of the Grim Reaper in long black robed and a tall bowler hat, frown lines etched into his aged face.

I felt more tears glide down my features as he removed his hat and held it against his heart, looking at me sorrowfully. He asked me if he could come in and I didn't answer, just stepped out of the way for him to enter of his own accord. When he'd breezed by me, I swiftly closed the door behind him, making a loud creak and followed him obediently into my sitting room.

We sat opposite each other, my hands clasped on my lap as I stared at him expectantly. I wasn't crying any longer.

"Mrs Potter," he began, reciting the words he told every person who'd lost a loved one. I cringed, but remained blankly staring at him. "I'm afraid there was a terrible accident…"

I swallowed a lump in the region of my Adams apple in preparation of what was to come. I nodded meekly, unable to do anything else.

The podgy man shook his head sadly. "Your husband was buried alive," he divulged, making me choke on my breath, "along with many others. There was an avalanche near the mountains and large boulders suffocated them as they retreated. The person they were searching for also died along with them. He died a hero, Mrs Potter." I bit my lip when he called me that. "We're very sorry for you loss," he lowered his eyes to the floor.

Harry James Potter, saviour of the wizarding world was dead.

_"Harry! I'm going to kill you!" I stood in my bikini, dripping wet thanks to Harry._

"I'm sorry," he said innocently, shivering slightly in his soaked clothes, "but you looked so tempting just lying there on the grass. I had to do it." I saw a mischievous twinkle in his emerald eyes and found myself giving in.

I frowned, despite my urge to giggle. "Am I supposed to believed that!?" I hissed, shivering.

Harry grinned and stepped towards me, "Yep,"

My heart skipped a beat at the closeness of us. "Well I don't," I folded my hands across my chest, in attempt to hide myself from his lusty eyes. "And stop looking at me like that!"

"I can't help it," he sighed, draping a towel over my shoulders.

"God, Harry," I said, trying to steady my shaking voice, "you're making me nervous. Why are you looking at me like that?" I pulled the towel tighter around me, looking into his hungry eyes.

"Because," he sighed stepping so close I felt his breath tickle my neck, "I can't do this anymore." I frowned. "You're so beautiful… I can't bare to think about when I leave you'll be looking at some other boy with the love I feel for you. I want to be the boy you look at like that."

"I do love you, Harry," I admitted feeling my heart soar. "I look at you, but you never seem to look at me…" I inhaled a deep breath and continued, "Do you love me, Harry?"

"Yes," he answered without hesitation, "more than anything else in the world." I felt like a huge weight had lifted from my heart at those words and my grin showed it.

"I love you too, Harry." I grinned, and before I knew it, he'd captured my lips in a sweet kiss. Our first kiss.

I felt my fingers grow numb from the chill that travelled down my spine. Amazingly, I didn't cry for him. I couldn't find it in myself to. I was just numb, sitting there while his concerned gaze studied my trembling body. I didn't feel sad or happy – I just couldn't feel at all.

My husband was dead I wasn't crying. My baby was now fatherless, but I still wouldn't allow the tears to fall. There was none. Nothing. It still hadn't sunk in yet that he wasn't with me any longer. I still expected him to walk into the sitting room and sit besides me, laughing and joking as usual, but he didn't and my longing glance at the door dissolved into bitterness.

I'd waited for Harry to look at me all my life and when he did I was absolutely delighted, it was the happiest day of my life when he asked me out. I remember all I did was smile and laugh like nothing bad could ever happen, because Harry Potter was mine and no-one else's. I always thought he saw me as nothing more than a sister or a best friend, but I began to realise the meaning behind loving stares. Now here I am today. I'm still devoted to him as the girl he chose to marry.

I fingered the silver wedding ring on my finger and smiled weakly. I wasn't married any longer, I was a widow and it hurts knowing this. My heart has just shattered again into a thousand pieces, beyond anyone's repair, but I'm still not crying. I can't cry in front of this man. I can't bring myself to at all, all I want to do is sit here and stare at the door and kiss and hold Harry when he comes home. That's just a dream though, a figment of imagination. Wistful thinking.

_Some things happen for a reason… even if that reason hasn't yet represented itself._

"Mrs Potter, are you alright?"

I nodded very slowly. "I just need a moment," I managed to croak. "It still hasn't sunk in,"

The fellow nodded understandingly and rose from his seat, passing me a fake sad smile. "I should be off," he said sounding suddenly brisk, "you need time to think."

I didn't respond, my eyes focused on my hands. I didn't need his pity or wanted to see what his eyes bore. Fake sadness. It all surreal what was happening. I'm find out I'm pregnant and then that I can't share the good news with Harry, because he's no longer here with me.

I heard him turn around and swiftly march up to the door, closing it softly behind him. It was then I peeked through the curtains and saw him place his bowler hat on and hop into the limo. There the death man drove off; ready to break the news to all the other wives, children and husbands who'd lost someone. I'm probably selfish in my own way to say I didn't care who else died. Harry had suffered all his life with the Dursley's, Voldemort and losing all those close to him because of who he was.

Being famous was never his choice. If Voldemort had killed him, the whole world would have probably perished and it's because of him we're here today. He killed Voldemort in his last year of Hogwarts and I remember it as though it were only yesterday. The field of Hogwarts was filled with mangled bodies, pools of blood, torn ragged robes and people fighting for their lives. I was one of them with Harry. He kept yelling at me, shouting though the screams to go, but I refused to listen to him, wanting to prove myself for more than a coward. I never killed anyone before in my life, but I hurt them. Oh yes I hurt those Bastards badly, even though they hurt me. They hurt my friends and family and I protected them – no-one harmed the people I loved, especially Harry. My eyes darted about for him, squinting through the fat droplets of rain that stung my eyes. That's when I saw it, the bright green light leap from the tip of Harry's wand and strike Voldemort squarely in the chest. I knew then as I ran into Harry's arms, that everything would be okay.

_It's over, baby. It's the end. We're going to be okay._

I hurried up the stairs, straight towards the bathroom were I found myself doubled over the toilet for the second time that day. I couldn't go to work today after all this – it was too much stress.

I brushed my teeth again, noticing my expression was emotionless and the spark in my eyes was dead. Gone. There was no life left in the girl I saw in the mirror. She was dead, lifeless, wanted to die. She didn't know were she stood anymore. She was out of place, out of balance. I saw it in her eyes, how she felt, what she needed. She wanted to let go of everything and be free. She wanted nothing more than to escape and be loved again, to wake up from this twisted reality that ate at her mind. For once in her life she couldn't weave her way out of her problem, couldn't even pretend it never happened. That's why she didn't want to cry, she was scared of what would happen to her, too afraid she'd forget her husband.

I tore my eyes away from the mirror, dragging myself towards my bedroom, when I halted at the foot of the bed. I could smell his cologne, sweet and fresh. It made me sick and I had to do something. I didn't understand why, but I grew angry at this. I started to tare the sheets off my bed, throw my belongings about and smash up photos of him and me when we were happy.

He'd died and left me alone and it was his entire fault. He should have fought harder and if he really did love me he would have lived. He wouldn't have died like that, he was stronger. He was Harry Potter – a legend everyone in the whole world knew about and a stupid avalanche had killed him. It was wrong. It was unreal – it hadn't happened.

Harry had to be alive.

I screamed, pulling at my hair and collapsed onto the bed in a fit of fury, punching the mattress until I couldn't handle it anymore. I couldn't cope with anything.

Harry had left me when I needed him the most; when I wanted him by my side he'd deserted me. I was pregnant with his baby and he wouldn't even be here to see our child being born. He didn't even know I was pregnant and he'd still gone. My little baby was fatherless, a child due to be born with a Harry shaped hole in their life and I couldn't cope with that.

Then for the second time, I cried. The tears came so quick I couldn't stop them. At first I knew they were for me, then for the baby and then I couldn't hold back. Big fat tears leaked out of my brown eyes for Harry. He was dead and I'd never see him again, never get to feel his skin against mine or his soft lips. Never able to hear him telling me he loved me or I tell him. I wanted to at this very moment, but I never could. Never again could I do any of that. Not even feel the hairs rise on my neck everytime he said my name.

He was gone forever and there was nothing I could do about it. Then an idea struck me, I had to do something, and this was perfect.

I wiped my eyes and grabbed a quill and parchment, and then I wrote down, with much difficulty everything that'd happened since seventh year. It was hard, because everytime I wrote his name or love, I cried harder. I had to write it, it was for everyone – they needed to know why I was going to do it to myself. They had to understand, even if it was hard to except – they had to do it for me.

Without a second thought I picked up the phonebook beside me and flipped through it and dialled the correct number, all I had to do was wait for the receptionist to answer.

Three weeks passed since I wrote the letter and I haven't been out or seen anyone. I suspect they have all found out about Harry. Anyhow, today is his funeral. I saw everyone in black clothes, surrounding a coffin and started over to them. They gasped upon seeing me, my face hidden behind a black veil so they couldn't see me crying. I stood at the foot of the white coffin, refusing to look down at it. I knew he was there, looking up at me inside the thick wood, and could feel his stare burning into my chest.

He knew what I was going to do.

I swallowed a large amount of air and slowly cast my eyes to stare at the coffin, seeing red and yellow roses surrounding it, Gryffindor colours. Colours of courage – they matched him perfectly. He was the most courageous man I had ever known and I was the proudest wife ever, or widow…

A strong hand came to rest on my shoulder, mine slid over it. I knew who it was. I could smell that cologne. Ron Weasley, my husbands' best friend and my brother. I tilted my head to face him, feeling the salty tears trickle down my cheeks. I bit my lip and threw my arms around him, unable to stare into his warm hazel eyes any longer.

"Shh," he cooed, stroking my hair softly, "I'm here for you."

I shook my head, attempting to control my tears. "I know," I wept, "but Harry isn't!"

I felt his muscles tense slightly at the mention of his name. "I know, I know, but I just want to let you know that no matter what, me and Hermione are here for you, okay?"

I nodded and withdrew, wiping my eyes on my sleeve. "Thanks, Ron," I sniffed, looking at him properly. I saw dark circles under his eyes, and his face usually able to make anyone laugh or smile had lost all life, like mine had. "I love you,"

He smiled and I felt a small twinge in my stomach. "I love you too, Ginny," he kissed the top of my head and turned around, then halted half-way. "Want me to stay?"

I shook my head and replied, "No, I'll be fine on my own… You go ahead."

He nodded, obviously understanding I needed to be alone, and proceeded to resume walking the opposite direction, presumably to comfort Hermione and Lavender, whom I saw sobbing with my mum.

I stood there for a whole hour, staring blankly at the casket as the vicar read from the bible over shuffling feet and sniffles. There were thousands of us, so you can guess that I didn't know everyone. It seemed Harry was a very popular guy and it made me cringe about what I was about to do. I was selfish, I wasn't the only person grieving for him and I was still going to hurt them even more by doing it.

_I'll never leave you, Ginny._

That's what he'd promised me and he'd broken it. He had left me. So I watched all the people leave as the service ended and bid goodbye to friends and family, telling them I'd see them soon, which I knew was a lie. One in particular person made me frown as she approached me; it was Pansy (Parkinson) Zabini, a work college of mine.

"Hey, Ginny," Pansy greeted looking glum.

I smiled slightly and hugged her tightly, when I withdrew I saw fresh tears in her eyes. "If you're going to give me pity," I began, "then I don't want it."

She nodded with a hint of a smile, and withdrew something from her pocket, then placed it the palm of my hand. "I thought you might need it," she said as I shot her a questioning look.

I frowned and looked at the shiny object in my palm. It looked like a smooth white pebble, but when you looked at it closely, you saw it had an opening. I slowly flipped it open and discovered a coiling silver liquid inside, making me smile. "Thank you, Pansy," I whispered, closing the penseive.

A small smile curved onto her lips and she shrugged like it was no big deal. "I hope you don't mind," she bit her lip, "I added a memory of my own."

"Not at all…" I shook my head of red hair and looked up at her, placing it gently in my pocket. "I look forward to seeing what you put in it,"

"I'm sure you'll like it," she assured me.

That's when we went our opposite ways. I arrived home at around five that evening after deciding to walk. I wanted nothing more than to sleep and hopefully wake to find this had been one very long nightmare, so I brushed my teeth, changed into my pyjama's, then climbed into bed, moaning softly as my body came in contact with the cool sheets. I kept my eyes open for a long period of time, staring blankly at the ceiling in thought. I thought of how I met Harry to when he died, to when I first cried to the last, to when I last smiled to when I frowned. I thought of my life and how I've changed over the years.

I rolled over to my side and looked at the empty space in the bed were Harry should be lying. I could smell his cologne again, but this time I didn't feel sick, angry or sad, instead I smiled for the good times we shared. Then, before I knew what was happening, I fell into a peaceful sleep, the smile still etched into my features.

_I love you, Ginny, you are my everything._

I awoke the next day feeling a little happier than yesterday and climbed out of bed reluctantly. I pulled on my faded jeans and white vest top, and brushed my teeth – I didn't wear any make-up these days. No-one ever saw me anyway, so who would I show off to? No-one.

I flicked on the kettle and tapped my fingers on the counter, waiting impatiently for it to whistle, and then poured myself a nice cup of coffee. I took a small sip and moaned, feeling the warm liquid glide down my throat slowly as I savoured the rich taste. I smiled contentedly and hurried into the living room, careful not to spill the contents of my mug and snuggled into the cream leather sofa – Harry and I chose it.

I placed the cup on the small table beside me, wincing at the sound of his name – I hated using it, but it seemed to pop up a lot lately, the main reason why I never bought the Daily prophet. No doubt he would be on the front page yet again; after all, his funeral was yesterday, so why wouldn't he be? Even if it wasn't, he'd be on one of the other pages and I couldn't bare it, I was too tender in that particular area and had every reason to be. Surely the reporters understood that everytime I saw his name I burst into tears, or became near to doing so, either that or they're incredibly dense, and I don't doubt the second option.

My mind travelled back to the events of yesterday, when I cried along with everyone else. Someone gave me something. I think it was Pansy. Yes it was, but I couldn't remember what it was. It looked like a pebble I think, and had silver stuff inside. It was really beautiful, but the objects name was on the tip of my tongue and I couldn't figure out what it was. Then the answer hit like a bolt of lightening. It had been pensieve.

I padded my feet on the floor and sauntered over to the hallway were I keep my coats, after rooting through all of my items, I found the pebble-like thing and flicked it open, immediately being sucked into it. I was falling through time and eventually landed on in room, a black sofa cushioning my falling.

An air of elegance and richness decorated the room; marble pillows saluted either side of a stone arch diving two rooms apart. The room was rather eccentric with silver snakes and green everywhere – without a doubt this house belonged to a Slytherin and I was definitely in the wizarding world, after all, this was Pansy's memory. My eyes continued to scan the room curiously and it was noticeable my current location was in a living room, only whose I didn't know.

"… no, please… I… No!" I heard a woman's voice cry in some sort of pain.

My feet concluded their progress to the arch were her eyes surveyed the heartbreaking scene before her. There sat Pansy, sobbing on the floor in none other than the muscular arms of Blaise Zabini. I saw her trembling arms secured around Blaise's body, refusing to let go.

"Blaise, i-it can't be true!" she sobbed into his chest. "Not to us, Blaise, not to Ginny!"

As she said that I refrained from crying. It meant so much to me that she cared like that, I knew we had grown close over the years, and I can't stress how much her saying that made me want to hug her.

"Shh," Blaise whispered, pressing his lips to her head, "I know, I care for her just as much as you, Pans," he sighed pulling her closer. "Harry and Ginny are both good friends of mine – seeing that happen to Harry…"

Pansy sniffed, tilting her chin to face him. "If anything happens to Ginny -"

Blaise pressed a finger to her lips, silencing her. "I know,"

"I love them both so much, Blaise,"

I felt tears sting my eyes. I wanted to hug them both and tell them how much I loved them, and I did, but I ended up falling straight through them. Instead I continued watching, feeling old wounds open yet again as their words pierced my ears.

"You have no idea," Pansy continued, caressing his face, "how much it hurts, Blaise. You're so stupid! You could have died out there!"

I gaped, Blaise was with Harry when he died, he was in Harry's division – how could I forget. My hand flew to my mouth, he must be horrified. He and Harry had grown close ever since Harry saved his life two years ago when death eaters attacked his house, and now Blaise had failed in his chance of repaying Harry, coasting him his life.

Blaise winced and nodded shamefully, "I know, Pansy, but I had to help Harry… and I-I failed!"

Pansy shook her head, more tears filtering from her eyes. "No, Blaise," she whispered, pressing her forehead against his, caressing his cheek with her free hand, "you tried and that's all that matters. To me only when someone gives up are they failure…"

_I'll never give up on him, Hermione, I love him so much._

I closed my eyes and let the tears fall willingly. Those last words tore me in two as I know I'd given up. I knew what I was going to do would hurt everyone I love, but they had to understand the motion behind my actions, if they didn't, they obviously did not love me. If they knew how much my heart ached everytime I saw someone kissing, or a couple holding hands, the name Harry or anything to with love, they'd forgive me and wouldn't suffer. Instead, they would forget I ever existed and move on, like I am about to.

I inhaled a deep breath of autumn air as I sauntered across the dew covered grass, dragging a suitcase along behind me, the golden leaves making a satisfying crunch underneath my feet. It was one of those days when the sun shone through the clouds, forming a golden mist through the gaps of naked trees, and the spider webs made of crystal lace. The sky was made of golden dust and the floor a blanket of crispy leaves. My eyes didn't wander around; they were set on something ahead, a patch of freshly dug mud. Yes, I was in the graveyard and I had forced myself to come and pay Harry his much deserved last respects.

I leisurely made my way to his gravestone, breathing shallow breaths. As I grew nearer, I looked at the stone, feeling salty tears stinging my eyes again. I knew I was alone with him for the last time in my life, and it was time to say goodbye, before I forgot all together. Before I've forgotten about my dreams, magic, school, forgotten about my friends and family and even him. I would remember nothing but my little baby.

I glanced around and saw I was alone – I had the graveyard to myself for once and no-one could disturb us.

I sat at the foot of his grave for a short while, reading the inscription on his tombstone repeatedly unit I had it memorised in my head.

****

R.I.P  
Harry James Potter  
(1989-2011)  
Loving husband of Ginerva Molly Potter  
A true hero to his friends and family  
He will never stray far from our hearts  
Thinking of you always

"Oh, Harry," I whispered, hoping he could hear me. "Why did you leave me? Don't you love me anymore?" I asked, hearing my voice breaking.

_No matter what, I will always love you, Gin, remember that._

I closed my eyes briefly, afraid that if I looked at his grave again I would die. "I'm sorry, Harry," I divulged in a hush, "I just love you so much it hurts… even more because I…" I couldn't bring myself to say it. "I'm going to… Oh damn you, Harry! It's all your fault! If you were here beside me, I'd be happy and we could start a family together… I-I I'm pregnant with your child." I breathed deeply, feeling faint. "Oh this is silly, you can't hear me…"

I felt my body grow cold and pulled my cloak tighter around me.

"… If only you could," I said through chattering teeth. "I want to see you smile again and tell me you love me, because I need that reassurance – no-one can tell me for you, Harry, don't you understand?" I shook my head sadly. "Don't you get what you've done to me by leaving me alone, carrying a child you have no idea exists?" I was stupid to even wait for an answer.

"I'm so sorry, Harry," I said gently, a silent tear rolling down my cheek, "but I'm so broken inside, beyond anyone's repair, even yours." I pressed my head against the tombstone. "Don't leave me completely or I'll die…"

_If something happened to you, Ginny, I'd kill myself! I love you so much it hurts…_

I kissed the edge of the stone; feeling bits of it crumble onto my lips. "I love you, Harry..."

I pushed myself to my feet and stumbled back, feeling a little light-headed. I don't know how long I stood there staring at his grave, but I knew by the time I looked up to the sky, the golden dust was turning maroon. I sighed and before I clutched the handle of my suitcase and turned to leave, I cast a fleeting look at were my true love lay and let another tear fall.

"Goodbye forever, my love…" I whispered and blew him a kiss. "I might forget about you, Harry," I turned around halfway and stopped, "but I'll never forget our love."

I withdrew my wand and closed my eyes and imagined a tall building full of people and large aircrafts, then spun on the spot and stepped forwards. I clutched my suitcase tightly as I felt my entrails twisting and turning under my flesh. The sensation was horrible, but how I felt beforehand felt much worse.

I looked up to see a tall glass building glistening down at me and made my way into it. I was in an airport, leaving for New York in America. Yes, this was the second stage of my plan, the first was leaving a farewell note to everyone at my house and I could only hope that they hadn't found it already. I sighed, waiting impatiently in the cue, and when it came to my turn, I showed the lady my ticket; she looked me up and down.

"Passport?"

I could've slapped myself in the head; nevertheless I withdrew my passport and handed it to her. She looked me up and down, comparing me to the photograph. She smiled and handed it back to me, and then I loaded my bags onto the track and waited for her to tag it. When she had, she told me to have a nice day and handed me back the ticket.

I took a seat in the waiting room, sometimes wandering around a little for a whole three hours, thinking about Harry mostly, but I knew I couldn't cry in a public place such as this and instead, busied myself in looking at clothes, which is what I do best. The time actually went pretty fast and before I knew it, I was boarding the plane in seat 44C, the window seat.

It didn't take long for the plane to become airborne and I have to say, feeling that unusual sensation in my stomach made me giggle, something I hadn't done it the longest of times. I grinned and looked at the darkening sky from the window, feeling more relaxed in over a month, all I wanted to do was sit here for ages, watching the world go by, but all journeys had to end somewhere and mine was in five hours, which when you're having fun and sleeping, goes by pretty rapidly.

I felt my bladder filling up and rose from my seat, making my way down the aisle to the toilet, though much to my dismay, when I reached it, it was already occupied. I growled and folded my arms across my chest until the door finally clicked open.

My breath caught in my throat.

There stood Harry, alive and unharmed, looking at me through his vivid green eyes.

"G-Ginny?" he asked, surprised to see me. "Is that you?"

I opened my mouth to speak, but I couldn't, Harry was actually here one the same plane, alive. "H-Harry?"

He nodded slowly and I cocked a brow at him, looking him up and down. "I thought you were dead?"

He diverted his gaze. "No, it was a set-up, Ginny," he admitted unable to meet my eyes. "I-I I'm sorry…" He looked up at me, his eyes begging for forgiveness. "It was the ministries idea - they assured me my job of tracking down Malfoy would be easier if everyone thought I was dead… Malfoy wouldn't see it coming." He paused, waiting for my reaction. "For the past month I've been around the globe searching for him, but all the while, all my thoughts were of you, Ginny. I imagined your face repeatedly in my head, crying over me and its tore me apart."

"Even if that were true," I replied feeling tears prickle my eyes, "you have no idea how much you hurt me, Harry!"

A tear fell from Harry's eye and he pulled me into the toilet with him, it was only small and consequently (more like rewardingly), I was crushed into Harry's chest.

"I would never purposely hurt you, Gin," he soothed, sliding him arms round my waist, "you know that, right?"

I nodded, calming down a little.

"I love you so much, Ginny," I watched as a tear fell from his eye, "it killed me to hurt you."

I couldn't help it anymore – I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him close to me. I didn't care what he'd done for the moment, all I wanted was this small reassurance that he was here with me. I needed to know he still loved me and wouldn't leave me again. "I love you too, Harry,"

_We can overcome anything if we stay strong._

Then he devoured my lips with his and began rubbing my shoulder. Harder, and harder…

The clerk rubbed my shoulder. "Miss…. Miss?" she asked anxiously. "You've arrived in New York."

I sat up and noticed the woman smiling down at me. She had blonde hair and vivid blue eyes. "I have?"

"U-huh," she nodded, leaning backwards. "Ten minutes ago…"

It had just been a dream – Harry was really dead! My heart fell and the girl must have seen it as she arched a brow at me in question.

"Thanks," I replied and began rubbing the sleep from my eyes. Then I rose from my seat and hurried out of the plane towards the airport, but before I left, I didn't know why, but I glanced backwards towards the toilet, expecting to see Harry standing there. But he wasn't and I felt my heart shatter in my chest.

He was really gone.

I shook my head and swiftly exited the plane. It took a surprising ten minutes to collect my suitcase and I didn't waste much time. I hurried out of the glass double doors and hid behind a coach, then checking no-one was watching, I withdrew my wand and apparated away to my new apartment. I'd phoned them soon after I'm rang the airport that time and I'd been excited to see it.

I arrived at the entrance of a tall building, it had a golden glow from the light emitting from it, and with a grin I entered. I hurried up two flights of stairs until I reach number 42, my apartment.

Excited, I knelt down and retracted the keys from the letterbox, just where I told the woman on the phone to leave them. I placed the silver key in the door shakily, and turned it – I just couldn't wait to get into my new place. I twisted the handle with a satisfying click and wrenched open the door. It was dark when I entered, more so when I shut the door behind me. I could make out the faint outline of a switch to my left and flicked it on. Light flooded to every corner of the room and I grinned down at what I saw.

Letting go of the handle of my suitcase, I sauntered around the apartment, noticing it was just like the one at home, except it had no stairs. I found the bedroom last and ventured inside. That's when the happiness faded, when I realised there was no point in looking or feeling happy anymore – I'd forget it all later anyway.

I slid a pen and a new diary from my pocket and wrote some information about me on it, of course it was false, but I wanted me to find this. Then I thought about my life one last time, all the points and the bad, the birthday's Christmas's and kisses, the fights, cries, and deaths. All that shaped me into the woman I am today, but presently I stand for only a fraction of the woman I'd become more than a month before. I was a broke, sad widow and I needed to forget it. In order to do that, I had to erase everything and start a new. I mean everything.

I gripped my wand from my table and sat on my bed, twirling it absentmindedly; with the diary opened to page I'd written in, in my hand and shakily read it repeatedly.

Dear Diary,

My name is Ginny Arden; I'm twenty-one years old and live in number 42 in the Wentworth apartments, New York as of today. I have no family as I lived in an orphanage till I turned sixteen, but now I live here. My life has been pretty hectic, and now I'm nearly two months pregnant. Exciting isn't it? The only problem is that I don't know the father of my baby, but I still want to have it, I've lived on my own for so long. I have no job at the moment, but I'm about to look for one, I just hope I get a good one. I need to earn money for my family, well my only family that's due in only seven months! I can't believe it! Anyway, I best go because I need to unpack.

Lots of love, and wish me luck,  
Ginny.

I laid the diary down beside me, not wanting my tears to blotch the writing. It was important that it was clear to read.

I looked down at my wand, thinking about everything I knew for the last time ever, for all of it would fade. Everytime I thought though, Harry's face always popped into my mind, and it must have printed itself on my eyelids as everytime I closed my eyes, it was all I saw. His lifeless face staring up at me hauntingly.

My breathing became heavier as I looked one last time around the room, hoping the plan would not backfire. I sighed and for the last time in my life, dared to close my eyes.

"I'm so sorry, Harry," I whispered, feeling a tear glide down my features. I kept my eyes closed and pressed the wooden wand to my temple.

_Promise me something, Ginny._

Anything.

No matter what, never forget me.

"I have to break my promise," I inhaled what seemed my last breath. "Obliviate!"

_Id never forget you, Harry._


End file.
